With You
by Kitty le Fay
Summary: She remembers the exact moment she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.


She remembers the exact moment that she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

John had just dropped Imogen off at Greg's flat one morning for last minute babysitting. While Mary was busy hunting down Moran, he and Sherlock were busy on a new case. Molly was hiding in the bedroom and she can never remember if the case in question had to do with a cult of murderous gingers or a rogue garden gnome, but she does remember the irksome feeling in her gut that Sherlock knew where she was and why. He didn't say anything of it, however, thank God. She wasn't quite ready, at that time, to make her relationship with Greg public. After all, they had only been sleeping together for the past three months.

When the front door was closed Molly crept out of the room, wearing nothing but a pair of knickers and the shirt she'd ripped off of Greg's back the previous night. Greg was in the corridor in his house robe with Imogen in his arms.

"Sorry to wake you," he said. "But look who popped by for a visit."

"That's okay," she insisted and kissed him before saying hello to the baby. "You don't think they know, do you?"

"So what if they do? They don't own you, Molls, do they Immy? No. Auntie Molly doesn't live in God-daddy Sherlock's pocket, does she? No, she doesn't."

Imogen giggled as "Uncle Greg" tickled her tummy and blew a raspberry on her cheek. Molly couldn't help but laugh, not only at how good he was with the baby or even the fact that she'd been "Auntie Molly" since Imogen was born, but the fact that someone saw her as something other than the mousy pathologist under Sherlock Holmes' thumb. It felt odd, but she was willing to get used to the feeling.

She shook it off and offered to make breakfast.

Molly went to the kitchen to make egg and soldiers while Greg took Imogen to the bathroom to change her nappy. When breakfast was almost ready she heard a low singing coming from the living room.

"_I always flirt with death. __I would kill, but I don't care about it._

_I can face your threats and stand up tall and scream and shout about it._

_I think I'm on another world with you. With you._

_I'm on another planet with you. With you."_

She recognized the song. She and Greg had danced to it one evening after a disastrous date at a poorly chosen bistro with god-awful service and even worse food. They went home and ordered Chinese takeaway to make up for it and Greg put on a record he'd kept since his youth. Molly had seen everything from dead bodies to Sherlock experimenting on dead bodies, but Greg Lestrade playing an air guitar was something she never thought she'd see. It made her laugh, though, and soon they were both dancing like kids in a club before shagging like rabbits on the sofa as the rest of the record played on.

"_You get under my skin__. __I don't find it irritating._

_You always play to win, but I won't need rehabilitating. Oh no!_

_I think I'm on another world with you. With you._

_I'm on another planet with you. With you."_

Molly followed the singing to the living room and had to hold her breath to keep from giggling. Greg was on the leather sofa with his back facing Molly while he continued to sing to the happy baby girl on his lap.

"_Another girl, another planet._

_Another girl, another planet."_

Greg was brilliant with Imogen, which didn't surprise Molly at all. He was a father himself, after all, to a beautiful seventeen-year-old girl called Meg and he was always good with children on cases. Seeing him with little Imogen sparked the idea in Molly's head that he must have been a great father to his own daughter and she could only imagine what a great father he'd be to their children, should they go that far and choose to have any.

"_Space travels in my blood__. __There ain't nothing I can do about it._

_Long journeys wear me out, but I know I can't live without it._

_I think I'm on another world with you. With you._

_I'm on another planet with you. With you."_

That's when it struck her. When she pictured Imogen as her own daughter for a moment she couldn't push the thought from her mind. It came to the point that she decided that she could live like this. She could have breakfast, lunch and dinner with this amazing man and come home to however many children they were willing to have. Greg was wonderful, not just as a lover, but as a friend. Maybe it was too soon to say, being only three months into the relationship, but she really did love him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

"_Another girl is loving you now__._

_Another planet is holding you down__._

_Another planet."_

Greg finished the song with a kiss on Imogen's cheek. Molly applauded. He responded with an embarrassed chuckle at first, but then walked towards her to kiss her cheek to even things out.

"Happy?" he asked

"Ecstatic," she said. "Breakfast is ready."

She remembers it as though it were yesterday. The rest of the day held loads of shared memories, but that one in particular still holds a special place in her heart, especially now. Things have gotten more serious since then and since moving in with him she's never been able to look at the leather sofa without beaming like a lovesick idiot at the memory.

Even now, sitting on that same sofa, it takes all of her strength to keep from grinning as she waits for Greg to come home, make love to her after a long day at work and open his birthday present: a positive pregnancy test.

* * *

**AN: The song is called _Another Girl, Another Planet_ by The Only Ones, which I heard from one of Rupert Graves' films called_ Different For Girls_ (which is a really lovely film, so go watch it 'cause it's a romantic comedy about trans issues and you get to see Rupert's dick) and I couldn't get this image out of my head when I heard it. I also have a headcanon that Greg was quite the punk as a youngster.**


End file.
